Remembering
by Solaced Whimsy
Summary: Time passes, and sometimes things are forgotten-but there are always things that will remain with us. However, every now and again, we need some reminding of them. Remembering can be the hardest thing, but some memories can bring the greatest comfort.


**Disclaimer: **_Tite Kubo owns all these characters, and I totally respect that. : The lyrics used towards the end are credited to Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles._

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A presence he hadn't felt in what had to be lifetimes.  
A warm, refreshing energy that washed over you, that put you at ease if you allowed it to.  
Her energy.

She was close by, getting nearer. Why, he didn't know. How, he didn't know either. She had been gone for such a very long time. Why now? How was she here?  
Was she here to taunt him? To berate him for abandoning her? Probably she was here now to torment him with what he could no longer have.  
Was she really so spiteful? No, no... Her energy pressed closer, permeating the confines of his prison cell. Let her come, let her see what had become of him-she could laugh, she could pity him, could look down on him and feed him back all of the malice he had brought upon her friends-would she? Did he remember her so uncaring, so cold? She wasn't easily forgotten, but was she beginning to slip away already?

In the second that it took for a slender body to step into the small room, his mind went blank, even just for a moment, and all of that was forgotten.

She was just as he could recall her, and so, so different.

Her hair had grown. She had cut it, from the looks of it, at one point, but it had gotten longer again. Her face was no longer obscured so much from it, either-that hair the color of a sunrise. Those eyes were still so bright; like lilacs in the shade, but even now they held so much youth and mirth. Her looks were not so physically different, though she had aged, that was clear. She was not the unsure and malleable girl from that time; now...she walked with a confidence that made him smile in spite of himself. She held her head high, she carried herself with a grace and a power that she had finally come into and controlled and that was all her own.  
Yet, that smile was still just as sweet, that energy all about her was still so gentle and warm.  
She was herself, and she was someone else, and she was a goddess among creatures who could only wish for such divinity. She was the only thing that had kept him so human for so long and she was the only other being he had felt so drawn to and who could stand on that precipice of power with him.

"You still remember me, don't you?"

A voice that he'd know anywhere, soft and careful and hopeful. Of course he remembers her, oh this game she's playing...

She came closer,stepping into the dim light-but she was radiant to his tired eyes. When he could see her expression, he did not have to see a mirror to know what his appearance was to her. She moved closer still, like some ghost he dreamed up in his solitude, drifting to where he sat, unmoving still. He fought to not meet her gaze, but the battle didn't last long, it never did when it came to her. Exploiting his weakness, she must have become a scheming tactician since he had seen her last...

His eyes meet hers finally, and it's like air to drowning lungs.  
"This is what's become of you..." She murmurs, her body so close to his now,her hand reaching for his face painfully slowly. Before her skin even makes contact with his, there are the sensory memories that come flooding back, and he aches to feel that skin again. It's a desire that's maddening, that has distressed him since it first emerged, to touch her.

Her hand touches his face. Her fingertips slide over now rough and dirtied skin, her palm meets growing facial hair. Against all his reasoning and willpower, his head tilts to meet her hand, eyes closed. Her power washes over him in that moment, as she leans in closer, lowering her body over his, her face moving nearer to his. He can feel the change that her touch brought-his skin feels smooth and vital again, his bones not so frail, his muscles not so weak.  
If his arms had not been bound, he might have embraced her for that.  
Her eyes stare into his, that deep gaze that managed to ensnare a god once upon a time. A whisper that he nearly misses.  
"Please say something."

Cracked lips and a dry throat protest, but he obliges her. Only her, ever.  
"You know me better than to order me around, Orihime."  
A spark in grey-violet eyes. A tug at the corner of her mouth.  
"I'm sorry. I think I might have gotten brave recently."  
"Enough to step into hell. You must have taken lessons."  
She pauses, gives him a small smile that twists her mouth. She tries to ignore what he's called her current location, something he wishes was possible for anyone just now.

Her opposite hand comes to his face now as well. He fights back the urge to move his own arms; the endeavor would end in dark disappointment.  
"I didn't expect to ever be here." she whispers, and he can hear the tears in her voice.  
"I didn't myself, though I'm sure it wasn't as much of an effort for you as it was for me." She would laugh if the circumstances he was talking about weren't any so dark, or so painful to remember.  
Her body pulled away for just a moment as she seemed to gather herself together. His body strained only for a moment to follow, and then once again, he was still.  
"It's nearly winter now." she said suddenly, absently, sliding herself onto the chair and into his lap. It was a strange predicament, but just sitting in that position brought familiarity back to her body. She knew how to move, what position to take, where to rest. Only now, his arms were around her in memory alone. "Winters are so much colder than I ever remember." She whispered. He said nothing, gazing at her as if to absorb her into his eyes.

All was silent, the two of them staring at one another, transfixed. His eyes burn like they always did. They comfort her and reach out to her and tell her stories of a thousand things she wished she would never know. Her voice breaks the quiet.  
"Close your eyes." She said suddenly. His brow furrows for a moment, but he does so, and suddenly her head rests against his neck,cradled between his neck and shoulder. He can feel her heartbeat through his bonds, and the strange comfort of it keeps his eyes closed longer. "It's dark, dark and cool. But we don't need light, the moon is bright enough." She whispers. He tenses for a moment, but with her words, he's reliving something he had long since lost. "The air isn't cold, but my hands feel prickles on your skin. The blankets are warm, but your arms are warmer." She took a breath, continuing. "I can hear your heartbeat, and I think you can feel mine. I feel your fingers in my hair, and your breath on the top of my head. And...even if we're alone, and it's silent, and this shouldn't be happening and I shouldn't be here, and even though I'm afraid that everything is so empty now..." He felt her take a sudden, ragged breath, holding back tears. "I don't need anything, just then. I'm just a woman, and you're just a man, and we're together, and that's all I wanted..." Her head shifts against him, as if trying in vain to get closer to his skin. "And right then, I forgot everything else, and that was all I had." She moved against him again, and her hands were on his face again as she straddled his lap, staring down at him, her thumb over the eyelid of his one exposed eye."Keep it." She murmured, barely able to raise her voice without it cracking. "Keep that night, that room, that moment. Keep it safe, please." She said, and he felt her trembling as she held in sobs. "Keep it safe, because I don't want it hurt." Her lips pressed to his forehead, and he felt the cold drip of her tears on his skin, felt her skin trembling as she tried to stay steady.

She felt the time passing, she knew someone would be coming here soon, and she needed to leave. Her eyes took in his face, the change that had come over it even after her power had taken away much of the aging. He opened his eyes to gaze at her again, and she knew that if her eyes kept on his, she would never be able to leave here. Her hands were on his face again, shutting his eye. She did the first thing that came to her mind. She sang a lullaby.

It wasn't, really. It was just a song she had heard in the human world that had made her heart ache.  
"This is my winter song to you  
The storm is coming soon  
It rolls in from the sea.

My voice a beacon in the night  
My words will be a light  
To carry you to me." She sang, her voice soft, her forehead pressed gently to his.  
"They say that things just cannot grow  
Beneath the winter snow  
Or so I have been told.

They say we're buried far  
Just like a distant star  
I simply cannot hold." She swallowed down tears, her reiatsu enveloping him as she sang so felt him relaxing, settling into sleep.  
"Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?

This is my winter song  
December never felt so wrong  
Because you're not where you belong  
Inside my arms."

Tears fell down her cheeks as she stood again, watching as the man in his chair fell deeper into sleep. She didn't know if she would ever see him again like this-and she hadn't thought that after the 30 years that had passed already, this would hurt her so much.

Orihime had stopped aging shortly after she had turned 20. She hadn't questioned it, just accepted it, and lived on. She had watched her friends slowly age, watched Ichigo begin to gain his spiritual power back again, watched life pass by. It hurt, but...  
She could not explain this. When she touched him, she didn't want to let go. Her spirit called for his when it was not near, her body still ached for his touch even now. He stayed in her memory. His touch still ghosted on her skin, his voice and his scent and his energy still gently caressed her in her dreams. She kept him with her everywhere, but... She could not explain this.

The day to follow brought Urahara Kisuke to that detention cell far in the depths of that prison. When he found Sousuke Aizen asleep even after he entered,he was no short of shocked-especially as it seemed that the man hadn't slept in years, or if he had, he never let anyone know it. But now...he was in a sleep so deep that even after Kisuke had come in, he didn't wake up. The blond man stood watching him for a moment, his eyes taking note of his cleaned face, but his analysis stopped suddenly when he saw a small bit of color protruding from one of the bindings near Aizen's neck. Stuck into it was just a small piece of white fabric-it looked like the torn off corner of a handkerchief. Looking at it there, Urahara's eyes widened, tracing over the little emblem embroidered into the white fabric. A small, blue flower,with six petals.

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**I haven't updated here in forever. :C**

**This was a sort of 'cathartic' thing for me; I've been in a bizarre mood lately unfortunately. The song I used is 'Winter Song' by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles; it's lovely, and you should all listen to it. C:**

**More from me soon, I think.  
**

**~Myoubi  
**


End file.
